


Kink Meme Fills

by icymice



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-11-10 08:49:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11123847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icymice/pseuds/icymice
Summary: A place to post various fills I've written! Prompt+pairing in the chapter description.





	1. Mako/Cass, trans Mako

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted at http://kinksatthetable.dreamwidth.org/ !!

“I’m bored!” Mako announces, and he kicks at the underside of the console. “No more delivery missions. I didn’t even get to fog anything or do a cool voice.”  
  
AuDy shoots him a look from the pilot’s seat, as much as they’re capable without a face or eyes or anything. “We have to lay low. Our last job drew far too much attention.”  
  
“Why don’t you go polish your robots?” Cass says. AuDy’s hand twitches on the ship’s controls.  
  
“Is that a euphemism for something?” asks Mako.  
  
Aria crosses her arms, her new cyberware catching the light as she moves. “No, Mako, they mean the ones you bought that are going to start collecting dust if you don’t sell them soon.”  
  
“Hey, hey, hey-- _we_ bought,” he says, but the atmosphere in the cockpit has turned somewhat frosty.  
  
Defeated, he slouches back to the closet he’s recently commandeered for his own personal quarters.  
  
So far there’s only a futon and a few posters in it, but it’s probably about as big as his old dorm, and hell, bigger than some of the apartments he’s had on Counterweight.  
  
When Cass arrives, Mako is sprawled out on the bed, boxed in by several holographic computer displays. He closes them before Cass can see that he’s reading about the Snowtrak incident.  
  
“Trig.” Cass stands in the doorway and looks around his room, their expression dubious.  
  
“Cassie! Fancy meeting you here.”  
  
They wince a little and shift from one foot to another. “I wanted to talk to you about something. You’re not... busy, are you?”  
  
Mako just snorts. “The way work has been lately?”  
  
He can tell they’re uncomfortable. Sure, he doesn’t have much of a filter, but he’s better at noticing things than people give him credit for.  
  
“C’mon over, tell me what’s up.” He shoves some of the junk off his bed and pats the space beside him. Cass crosses the room somewhat hesitantly and takes a seat.  
  
“How are you recovering?”  
  
“I’m fine. Never better.” He thumps his chest. Cass raises an eyebrow at the metallic sound it makes, but doesn’t comment.  
  
They’re handsome up close. Even with the way they look now: unshaven, dark circles under their eyes, their shoulders hunched inward… there’s something there that still gives off a royalty vibe, that reminds Mako of the stuck-up Apostolisian kids he knew from Whitestar.  
  
They say something about needing a favor and something about fogging, but Mako isn’t paying attention anymore, looking instead at the gilded laurel leaves wound through their hair.  
  
“So, will you do it?”  
  
“Do what?” says Mako, and he puts a hand on Cass’s thigh.  
  
They both stare down at it in silence for a moment.  
  
“Uh,” Mako says, and he’s not sure who moves first but the next thing he knows they’re making out on his bed, and Cass is hauling him into their lap, their hands coming to rest on the curve of his ass.  
  
“You wanted some help polishing the old robot, eh?”  
  
“I will leave,” Cass says, but instead they grind their hips against Mako’s, hands grasping at the back of his shirt and dragging him down.  
  
“Been a while for me, your highness,” he says, gently pressing his knee between Cass’s legs, and Cass stiffens under him, grip tightening on his shirt. “You too, I’m guessing, ‘cuz you’re so tense all the time.”  
  
Their hair is streaked with silver and overgrown in the way of someone who was used to having a military cut and doesn’t quite know what to do with it now that the war is over. Mako threads his fingers through it and kisses down Cass’s stubbled jaw.  
  
“Don’t expect this to be a regular thing,” Cass mutters, and Mako just hums when they fumble with the catch on his jeans and pull them down around his thighs, their face flushed and their mouth in a tight line.  
  
That’s fine. He’s bored. He likes Cass. Mako shimmies the rest of the way out of his pants and crawls back into Cass’s lap.  
  
“Lay down and spread your legs.”  
  
“Sure, doc.”  
  
Mako flips over so that he’s flat on his back, ankles hooked around Cass’s waist. He doesn’t even get them out of their clothes, so he’s left to imagine the scars and whatever Apostolisian anatomy they’re hiding under there. What if they had three nipples or something?  
  
“The hell are you talking about,” Cass says as they press the heel of a palm between Mako’s legs, and he rubs up against it shamelessly before one of their fingers dips into him. Oops. Did he say that out loud?  
  
Distracted and impatient, he paws at the front of Cass’s jacket while they finger him with a single-minded determination, their thumb moving in methodical circles over his clit.  
  
“C’mon, Cass, hurry up--” He clenches around Cass’s fingers and they falter a little, breathing hard. “I know you wanna fuck me already.”  
  
“I should’ve fucked your mouth,” Cass says, and their other hand goes to Mako’s lips, the blunt pressure of their thumb seeking entrance. Mako takes it inside and swipes his tongue over it, letting Cass feel the scrape of his teeth.  
  
Of all the things he took them for, a tease was not one of them. He becomes aware from the sounds and the way Cass moves with little resistance that he’s getting embarrassingly wet. He squirms in their grip, trying to thrust to meet Cass’s fingers. His clit throbs and he closes his eyes, his clothes too tight and the friction against sensitive skin making him overheat.  
  
“It’s fine,” he says. “I’m ready to go.”  
  
Cass straightens a little, lines up their cock and slowly pushes in.  
  
“ _Oh--_ ” His breath leaves him in a rush. Cass is fucking huge, and he struggles for a minute to adjust, thighs shaking where they’re braced against Cass’s hips.  
  
Their hands grip his waist and they slam into him and Mako keens, arches, the heel of his foot digging into Cass’s back. A distant part of him wonders if the others can hear them. He was never quiet and he isn’t now, yelping when Cass bends to sink sharp teeth into his throat. Beneath them, Mako’s shitty futon creaks with every movement, the frame banging against the metal wall.  
  
“Fuck, yeah, that's good,” he pants, and Cass makes a low, hungry noise, pressing him further into the mattress and fucking him open.  
  
Mako catches them in a kiss just as the ship lurches, sending the two of them rolling over, and Cass’s grip tightens on him, their thrusts growing shorter and more erratic.  
  
“Gonna come?” Mako pushes himself up so he’s straddling them, leaning forward and pinning them to the bed. He rolls his hips and Cass moans, grabbing at Mako’s shirt.  
  
His hand slips between his legs, rubbing at his swollen clit as he fucks himself, each stroke going deeper inside until their bodies are pressed flush together.  
  
Cass comes first, body going taut, Mako’s name hissed between their teeth, and it’s the sensation of being filled that pushes him over the edge, shuddering as Cass’s cock pulses hot inside him.  
  
Spent, he leans back against their legs, chest heaving.  
  
“Oh, wow. Okay. Wow."  
  
“So…” Cass looks up at him and runs a hand along the outside of his thigh. “I want to run a job, and I want you to come with me.”  
  
Mako shoots them a lopsided grin in return. “You could've just asked.”


	2. A Sense of Direction- Hadrian/Samot light D/s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this was... a kink meme fill in an abstract sense but i still need to actually write hadrian giving samot that paladin dick imo

That night, Samot was dressed as a commander in a white uniform and tall boots, sitting with his arms resting on either side of the throne and his legs crossed. He wore a band of gold over his forehead.

Goosebumps prickled at Hadrian’s arms. From Samot’s posture and expression alone, he felt the urge to kneel, a weakness in his legs that dragged him down as if by instinct.

“It’s good to see you again,” Samot said, and he did look pleased, albeit in the way of a wolf spotting its next meal. “This might surprise you, but I don’t have much in the way of company anymore. Why don’t you come closer?”

The clank of Hadrian’s armor echoed in the throne room, light from the two moons filtering in through its tall windows and illuminating Samot on the throne. 

“Do you wish to serve me tonight?” Samot asked, and then, with a hint of amusement in his voice: “You may speak, Hadrian. I haven’t forbidden you that yet.”

“Yes,” Hadrian said, quiet, “yes, I do.”

“We’ll start with something simple.” Samot tapped his foot against the floor. 

Hadrian knelt and lowered his head, palms flat on the cool marble. He pressed his lips to Samot’s boot in a lingering kiss. It was smooth and smelled of leather. 

“Up,” Samot said, nudging at Hadrian’s cheek with the side of it. 

Hadrian obeyed, crawling closer still to sit at the base of the throne. Smiling down at him, face radiant, Samot pushed his foot very gently between Hadrian’s legs. 

“You were on your knees like this when we met,” he said. Hadrian’s breath hitched. “Blood all over you.”

Hadrian choked back a moan as Samot dragged his boot over him, heel to toe. 

“Such a quick study.” 

Samot sat back a little, legs spread in a clear invitation for Hadrian to touch him. His thighs were surprisingly lean and well-muscled, and Hadrian stroked them through Samot’s pants, imagining what they would feel like wrapped around his waist. 

“You want me,” said Hadrian, wondering.

Samot reached out to cradle Hadrian’s head in his hands, and Hadrian found himself unable to look away from the burning blue of Samot’s eyes. His thumb came to rest on Hadrian’s lower lip.  

“Use your mouth,” he said. 

Hadrian unfastened Samot’s jacket with trembling fingers, his heart thudding in his rib cage and a heat twisting through his stomach. He kissed the flushed skin of Samot’s neck, left shining red marks across his chest, and Samot arched up to him with a long noise of pleasure.

Finally, Hadrian bent to do as he had been told, wetting his lips and taking Samot between them. For all of the god’s commanding presence and ethereal beauty, it felt like a strangely mortal act: the taste of salt, the hot flesh under his tongue, Samot’s nails digging into the base of his skull.

“You’re doing so well, Hadrian.” Hadrian could barely hear Samot’s murmured encouragement above his own pulse pounding in his ears and the slick noises of his mouth on Samot’s cock. 

He glanced up to see Samot’s lips part, his eyes glittering and heavy-lidded. His hands clenched in the folds of the cloak, curling possessively against Hadrian’s shoulders, hair shining gold like--

_ The sun _ , Hadrian thought, drunk with arousal, _ the sun was never this close, _ and oh, god, Hadrian was going to ruin his armor--

“My sword,” Samot breathed, and his body tightened under Hadrian’s grip, and he came, spilling into Hadrian’s mouth, over his chin, into his hand. 

Drenched in sweat and achingly hard, Hadrian woke with a start. 


End file.
